


Par'machai

by fencingfox



Series: This October Night [12]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fictober 2019, Holodecks/Holosuites, In Public, Inktober 2019, Kinktober 2019, Movie Night, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 17:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: Thursday night movie night on a holodeck ofVoyagerbegins well enough. Tom's caught unawares when an affectionate B'Elanna shows up and can't keep her hands off him. The night goes from good to embarrassing to okay in short order.





	Par'machai

* * *

**| "What if I don’t see it?" | "Don't move." | public | dragon |**

* * *

The movie starts with a woman drinking from a goblet. Tom can see the lights in the holodeck movie theater shift as he and Harry find a seat near the middle of the twelfth row. Ayala and Samantha are sitting behind him to his left cuddling. The sight is a little surprising but Tom doesn't bother questioning it. Everybody needs somebody, even new mothers and Maquis rebels. Most of the theater is full since the movie has already started but their row had three empty seats. Two now are occupied by Tom and Harry. The third is on Tom's right. He's saving it for B'Elanna. He's hoping she can get away from engineering for a little while to join them. Maybe even chief engineers need somebody. Tom shifts the popcorn he's holding so Harry can reach into it. The young Ensign has already used the chair controls to tilt his seat backwards and open the foot rest. Tom does the same. 

This movie theater, modeled after the intimate 21st century spaces, had been his idea. He wanted something a little more intimate than the crowded Sandrine's or the bright Resort. Thursday movie nights were just the thing. And then, so he didn't seem overprotective of the idea, he'd opened movie suggestions to the crew. Ayala had won first lot. The movie he'd chosen—_He's a Dragon_—was a Russian cult classic. Tom had never seen it before but he looked it up in the database. It was a romance between a bride kidnapped from her wedding and a man whose species lived life either as a dragon or a human, but can also switch between the two. The ending is supposed to be happy. The movie is definitely a romance. Not too risqué, but enough for an interesting date night as Tom suspects is the plan for Ayala and Samantha. 

The shout and cries of women from the screen draws his attention. It doesn't show, but he suspects the dragon men are killing or raping them. The shouts fade into a black transition and the dark scene is replaced by the white-shrouded bride. She's beautiful: dark hair, pale skin, brown eyes, pink cheeks. The white veil only serves to accentuate her features and Tom finds himself imagining B'Elanna's visage in her place. He'd love to see her in a wedding dress, preferably for him. 

A familiar bob of hair crosses low on the screen. Tom's heart leaps. _She'd made it after all._ He taps his commbadge with the sound setting on low and whispers into it. 

"Paris to Torres." He hears the accompanying chirp that notifies him of her acceptance to his hail. "Harry and I are in the twelfth row in the middle. I saved you a seat." He hopes she doesn't balk at the invitation. He supposes if she's really uncomfortable, he and Harry can shift down a seat and B'Elanna can sit next to Harry instead. Tom doesn't want that though. He nudges Harry and motions to him to lower his seat as he does the same. Harry, the never-ending Ensign, obeys without question. 

"Maquis," Harry's special greeting for B'Elanna alerts Tom that she's nearby. 

"Starfleet," she drawls. Tom's a little jealous of their easy friendship. Their time on the Ocampan world gave them an early start that Tom can't dream of competing with. Granted, he'd met B'Elanna on Chakotay's ship, even tried his hand at flirting with her before Seska cut him off. He's a little glad she's dead. Then he feels guilty. No one deserves to die. Not even mean, double-crossing Cardassians. Seska must have been a decent person at some point in her life. She can't have been all bad, all the time. From what he saw of her interaction with her son, she was at least a decent mother. 

That brings him back to B'Elanna. Does she want kids? Would she consider them with him? Or another human for that matter? It occurs to him that he doesn't know if she likes Klingons or humans better. He isn't even entirely sure of her orientation. Maybe she's into girls and that's why Seska halted him. But no, he crosses off that possibility. She might be bisexual at most. She'd gone after him during her blood fever had she not? Then there was the time she'd been torn from her Klingon half back in the Vidiian mines. She'd let him comfort her. Their seated cuddling might lend itself more to friendship than romance but he wasn't about to let that stop him. He liked her a lot. Probably ever since the mines when he saw how vulnerable she could be. He liked that about her. Underneath all her Klingon ire, she was still human in the emotional sense. She still might need comfort from time to time. He couldn't wait for the opportunity to hold her again. 

B'Elanna brushes against his knees as she slips past him into the open seat. Tom's glad she hadn't asked to be seated next to Harry. She stumbles over her feet and Tom instinctively reaches out to catch her. She smiles close to his warm face. 

"Thanks." Her breath carries a hint of synthohol. Tom wonders where she had time to drink. She rights herself and settles into the chair to his right. B'Elanna leans toward him and whispers. "What happened so far?" Tom leans closer. He didn't need to; he just wanted to. 

"Some dragon men ritualistically raped or killed a bunch of postulates off screen. This woman is getting ready to be married." She doesn't lean back so Tom doesn't either. He wonders if that's the synthohol's doing. He isn't complaining but he is wondering how much she's had. Would it be appropriate to hold her hand? To kiss her? To walk her back after and spend the night together? 

The bride on screen takes a scenic ride on a lavish boat. Languid waves lap at the hull. She meets her husband-to-be, Tom supposes, and they share words. He suspects the movie is originally in Russian but his translator has no trouble translating for him. The wedding goers make a show of singing. The bride is swept up by a dragon without warning. She fights his claws before she realizes it would be a bad idea to fall from this height. Resigned, she watches fog clear to reveal a peaked island. The dragon deposits her in a cave and disappears. Samantha whispers at a barely audible level behind them. 

"I doubt they'll pause for me. I want to see the part you talked about. What if I don’t see it?" Tom wonders what Ayala is up to. He doesn't know Samantha all that well. They've crossed paths since he likes playing with her daughter, Naomi. The young Ktarian is always happy to play. Her happy demeanor's good company when he feels lonely, but not so lonely as to enter Sandrine's. 

"It's alright," he hears a soft smooch. "It doesn't happen for a while yet. Go see why Naomi wants you." Tom hears her commbadge chirp in notification of an accepted hail. 

"Neelix, tell Naomi that Mommy'll be over in a minute." Tom imagines B'Elanna comming him from engineering with a similar explanation. Is it weird that the thought of her as the mother of his future children turns him on? He shifts in his seat and tries to focus on the movie. He realizes he isn't leaned back anymore, glances at Harry who is, and massages the controls until he reclines. Unsurprisingly, B'Elanna does the same. He mourns the loss of her close presence but understands. It wasn't like he'd asked her on a date. 

Tom's surprised when the armrest separating him from B'Elanna suddenly lifts. B'Elanna scooches over to occupy its space. She rests her head on his chest and throws her right arm over his stomach while tucking her left against his side. _Had I asked her on a date?_ No, he's certain he hadn't. He'd been sure to convey that this was only an invitation from a friend to another friend despite his feelings on the matter. Tom warily places his arm around B'Elanna's back. She hums her content and Tom feels his stomach light up in fragile butterflies. Does this mean she wants to be more than friends? Her arm around his torso squeezes lightly, a poor reminder of her strength. Tom hysterically recognizes that she could change her mind any second and crush his ribs instead. He tenses. B'Elanna rubs her thumb against his skin under his shirt. _When had she gotten under it?_

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you if you get a little aroused." She sounds amused, like she's playing a game in the privacy of a locked cabin instead of in the open seating of a packed movie theater. The dim lighting would hide a lot from the eye, but it wouldn't do anything for the ear. Tom's hyperaware of Ayala, a brotherly presence for B'Elanna, seated behind and above him. Surely, he sees them cuddling in the light cast by the movie that Tom can't even pay proper attention to anymore. 

"I'm not aroused. I'm nervous." 

"Nervous that you'll _get_ aroused?" Her hand snakes out from under his shirt and drifts lower, cupping his flaccid penis through his pants. It twitches when she squeezes lightly. Tom squeaks and jumps sideways a little, nudging Harry and jostling the popcorn. It's a good thing Harry's invested in the popcorn, otherwise it'd be all over the floor by now. Tom then hears the swish of fabric shifting as Harry turns to him, probably thinking he'd nudged Harry on purpose. 

"What is—" his question dies at his lips. Tom can't bring himself to look at Harry. He hears clothing shift again abruptly at the same time Harry clears his throat. _Great._

B'Elanna giggles—she only does that when she's drunk Tom notes—and starts rubbing her thumb over the growing bulge in his pants. Tom groans automatically and then feels his face burn with embarrassment. _We're on the holodeck!_

His left hand awkwardly grasps B'Elanna's wrist. He picks her hand up and firmly deposits it on his chest. It isn't like he doesn't appreciate the attention, he just doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of half the crew. He wonders with apprehension whether the Captain or the Commander are in attendance somewhere and if they'd heard him. B'Elanna's hand rests docile for a moment before she takes to tweaking his left nipple through his shirt. He grabs at it forcefully and holds it away so that she's forced off his chest, but more on his arm. 

"What the hell, B'Elanna?" He whispers aggressively. He hears the chirp of a commbadge to his left. He doesn't tune into the conversation. His entire body is focused on B'Elanna in more ways than one. 

"What? You don't like it?" She asks too innocently. 

"The problem is that I do," he growls. They stare each other down to the lights and sounds of the movie. He has no idea what's happening right now. The only thing in his universe is B'Elanna. 

"Don't move." Tuvok breaks into Tom's universe. "This unfortunate process will conclude quicker if you obey." Tom looks up at Tuvok who is currently in the row in front of them with a phaser trained on his chest. The movie casts Tuvok in shadow as it continues, oblivious to his plight. "Please remove your hands from Lieutenant Torres." Tom releases B'Elanna's hand and it falls to his chest. He does his best to hold both in surrender but is somewhat hindered by B'Elanna's weight on his right bicep. 

"Alright. What's this about?" Tuvok doesn't answer his question. Tom is aware that they're interrupting the movie since they aren't talking in whispers. 

"Please stand and leave the theater with me, Lieutenants." Tom doesn't know why this is happening. He isn't aware of any policies regarding the chief engineer and the chief helmsman that command them to refrain from grappling with one another. Not one for phaser fire—even if it probably is set on stun—Tom uses his left to move the chair back to normal and stands. B'Elanna follows him. Tuvok gestures to the right with his phaser. Tom notices how the other patrons in his row have pulled their footrests in. He winces inwardly. What must they think? B'Elanna begins walking, almost stumbling, but Tom follows without reaching to steady her. He isn't sure Tuvok wouldn't shoot him before he got the chance. 

When they get into the corridor, Tom glances behind him to see that Tuvok is still training the weapon on him. Did he intend to hold them at phaserpoint until the brig? He notes though, that Tuvok calls for somewhere on deck nine instead of the Brig when they enter the turbolift together. Tuvok shepherds them to what Tom recognizes is B'Elanna's quarters. Could B'Elanna be having another blood fever? Tuvok holsters his weapon and then produces a hypospray. He presses it to B'Elanna's neck. It hisses as B'Elanna blinks. Her eyes clear, but they hold a bit of the fire he suspects she had acquired earlier. He's reminded of a dragon. 

"Private quarters are a more suitable place for intense affection." Tuvok makes it sound like a sport. Tom muses that 'intense affection' _does_ resemble a sport. Tuvok leaves without another word. He walks calmly but Tom spots a slightly quicker pace. Clearly, Tuvok doesn't think 'intense affection' works as a spectator sport. B'Elanna presses him to the bulkhead and hums when she grasps him and kisses his neck. Tom stutters. 

"T-Tuvok did mention something about _private_ quarters." What is it with her? Does she have a death wish? Is it a kink? B'Elanna growls, but Tom hastily enters his medical override into her quarters. The Doctor will be notified and probably ask about it tomorrow, but he doesn't care. He'd expected B'Elanna to return to her normal unapproachable demeanor when her eyes cleared of the synthohol. He isn't about to break the spell now. The door opens. He guides them inside. 

He expects her to turn him out when he kisses her. 

He expects her to turn him out when he takes off his top and hers. 

He expects her to turn him out when they get into bed together. 

He expects her to turn him down at every moment. The fear steadily pushes to the back of his mind. By the time she's letting him hold her to his chest—far more comfortable to do so in her bed than in the chairs—the fear has completely left his mind. He kisses the top of her head in gratitude. 

"What was that all for?" He asks when he moves his lips a few centimeters away from her soft hair. 

"Isn't it obvious?" It really isn't. He suspects the cryptic response is meant to suggest that she likes him. His heart pumps a little louder, a little faster, in his ears. 

"I mean, why now?" She shrugs. 

"I wanted to." 

"That's it?" He asks with disbelief. 

"Do I need a reason?" She sounds agitated. 

"No, I just—" He interrupts himself to ask the question he wants the answer to. "How do I get it to happen again?" She laughs, full and happy. 

"You don't, _par'machai_." He hasn't heard that ever. His translator's obviously no help. 

"_Par'machai_? What's that? A new swear?" She laughs again. 

"No. It's like significant other but stronger." He rolls them onto her back. He can't help it. 

"You want to be my strong significant other?" 

"Maybe." She evades his kiss and rolls them onto his back with more ease than he's willing to admit. "Do you want me to be your _par'machai_?" Despite her commanding position seated over him, she sounds a little worried. The first response he comes up with is a little teasing. He doesn't think she'll take it well in this state. Her brown hair falls softly around her face. It frames her high cheekbones, almond eyes, and soft nose. He can't help but look at her with longing. 

"Only if you promise to marry me." He freezes. He isn't sure where that came from. He suspects the mental image of her face transposed over the movie bride has something to do with it. She stills as well. He thinks she'll turn him out again. And while they'd just slept together, it isn't like he'd never been half of a one-night stand. In fact, he'd been half of too many one-night stands to count. He shouldn't feel such an attachment to her or such a knot in his chest. 

"Okay."


End file.
